All Chapters of UNTIL YOU REMEMBER ME: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

338 Chapters

The Blueprint

Alessa No one speaks. Not after that. It was about replacing him. The words don’t just linger—they restructure the room. Every assumption we’ve been operating under shifts, slides, breaks apart. Beside me, Adrian Reyes goes completely still. Not frozen. Focused. Dangerously, precisely focused. Across from us, the man—the proxy—stands exactly where security has boxed him in. Calm. Cooperative. Untouched by the tension he just detonated. Marcus Dela Torre exhales slowly. “…I’m going to need you to clarify that.” The man tilts his head. “I already did.” Marcus shakes his head once. “No. You implied. I want specifics.” The man’s gaze flickers briefly toward him, then returns to me. “That’s the problem,” he says quietly. “You’re all still thinking in terms of events.” Adrian steps forward. One step. Measured. Controlled. “Start thinking in terms of outcomes.” Silence. Then Adrian speaks. Cold. “Say it clearly.” The man studies him. Then nods. “Victor Salazar doesn’t want to

Reading The Blueprint

Alessa --- No one speaks. Not after Adrian opens the file. The room—already fractured—tightens into something sharper, quieter, more dangerous. I don’t look at the pages immediately. I look at him. At Adrian Reyes. Because I’ve learned something about Adrian in the short time I’ve known him like this—without memory, without history. He doesn’t react. He calculates. He doesn’t show. He absorbs. But right now—something is different. Subtle. But undeniable. His eyes move across the document with precision. Line by line. Section by section. And for the first time since I woke up—I see something shift in him. Not fear. Not panic. Recognition. My chest tightens. “Adrian…” He doesn’t answer. Across the table, Marcus Dela Torre watches closely. “That bad?” Marcus asks quietly. Adrian turns a page. Slowly. Carefully. Still nothing. The silence stretches. Heavy. Until Marcus exhales. “I’m going to assume that’s a yes.” The man—the proxy—stands exactly where he was left. Unmoved

Points Of Infiltration

Alessa --- The room doesn’t return to normal after that. It recalibrates. Not calm—never that. But focused. Tight. Every movement now has intent. Every silence carries weight. The doors close behind the proxy, and for a moment, no one speaks. Not because there’s nothing to say— but because everything that can be said now feels insufficient. I’m still holding the blueprint. Still staring at it. As if the pages might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying. They don’t. Across from me, Adrian Reyes turns toward security. “Lock this down,” he says. “No external access. No internal rerouting. I want every system isolated.” “Yes, sir.” Orders ripple outward immediately. Fast. Efficient. But even as they move—I feel it. That quiet, creeping awareness. We’re reacting again. And whoever we’re reacting to… is always one step ahead. “Adrian,” I say softly. He turns instantly. “What is it?” I lift the blueprint slightly. “This isn’t just about you.” His eyes sharpen. “

The First Contact

Alessa --- It doesn’t come all at once. The memory. It doesn’t break through like the others—sharp, violent, undeniable. It seeps in. Slow. Quiet. Like something that was never meant to be noticed. Adrian is still watching me. Waiting. Not pushing—but close to it. “Alessa,” Adrian Reyes says softly. “Stay with it.” I nod. Barely. Because I feel it now. That shift. That pull. Something is there. Something I dismissed. Something that didn’t feel important—until now. “I…” My voice falters. “There was someone.” The room stills instantly. Across from us, Marcus Dela Torre straightens. “Where?” I close my eyes. Trying to hold onto it. Not let it slip. “Not here,” I whisper. “Not in the building.” Adrian’s jaw tightens slightly. “Then where?” I exhale slowly. “Before the board meeting.” Marcus frowns. “At the press entrance?” I shake my head. “No… earlier.” A pause. Then—“The café.” Silence. Marcus glances at Adrian. “That narrows it.” Adrian’s voice lowers. “Walk me

The Bait

Alessa --- The room doesn’t calm down. It sharpens. Everything that felt theoretical minutes ago is now precise, immediate, dangerously real. He spoke to me. Sat across from me. Used a name we trusted. And I let him. I don’t sit. I don’t move. I just stand there, the weight of it pressing deeper with every second. Across from me, Adrian Reyes has already shifted into something else entirely. Not reaction. Strategy. “Timeline,” he says. The word cuts clean through the tension. Marcus Dela Torre nods immediately. “Café encounter was this morning. Pre-board. Roughly an hour before public exposure.” Adrian nods once. “That wasn’t random.” Marcus crosses his arms. “No. That was positioning.” Adrian’s gaze flicks to me. “Before pressure increased.” I nod slowly. “Yes.” Marcus exhales. “He wanted first contact before the chaos.” Adrian finishes the thought. “So his version of reality anchors before ours fractures.” Silence. Because that’s exactly what it felt like. Not intr

The First Move

Alessa --- Visibility feels different than I expected. It’s not loud. It’s not overwhelming. It’s precise. Engineered. By the time I step out of the car, everything is already in place. Cameras. Press. Security. Movement controlled down to the second. Beside me, Adrian Reyes steps out first. Always first. His presence shifts the space instantly—attention recalibrates, voices lower, lenses adjust. Then he turns. Offers his hand. Not for show. For control. For alignment. I take it. And just like that—we step into it together. Flashes go off immediately. Questions follow. Sharp. Layered. Predictable. “Mrs. Reyes, are you returning to Reyes Holdings permanently?” “Mr. Reyes, any comment on the internal investigation?” “Is it true there’s a restructuring underway?” Adrian doesn’t break stride. Doesn’t respond. Doesn’t need to. The silence is strategy. We move through it. Exactly as planned. Inside, everything shifts again. Quieter. Contained. But not less intense. Because

Blind Angles

Alessa --- The room changes after the photo. Not physically. But in the way all spaces change once you understand they are compromised. The glass walls no longer feel modern. They feel exposed. The open sightlines no longer feel strategic. They feel performative. Every polished surface now looks like something that can reflect us back to someone else. I stare at the image on Adrian Reyes’ phone. Me. In the lobby. Head turned slightly. Hand still linked with his. Unaware. The framing is clean. Centered. Intentional. No shake. No rush. Whoever took it wasn’t improvising. He was comfortable. “He had time,” I say quietly. Adrian’s eyes remain on the screen. “Yes.” Marcus Dela Torre steps closer. “Angle’s elevated. Second level or mezzanine.” “There is no mezzanine on this side,” Adrian says immediately. Marcus looks up toward the ceiling. “Then internal camera access.” A beat. “Or maintenance catwalk.” Adrian turns sharply toward security. “Lock all service corridors. Now

The Woman In My Name

Alessa --- For one suspended second—no one moves. No one breathes. The words hang in the room like something toxic. Alessa Reyes is already in the building. My skin goes cold. “That’s impossible,” I say. But even as the words leave me—I know they aren’t. Because impossible stopped applying to this story a long time ago. Across from me, Adrian Reyes is already moving. “Where?” Marcus Dela Torre checks the call still active on speaker. “Lobby registration desk.” “When?” “Twenty minutes ago.” Adrian’s jaw tightens. “Description.” Marcus listens. Then looks up. “Female. Mid-twenties to early thirties. Dark glasses. Hair tied back. Wearing your coat color.” My pulse spikes. “She was dressed like me.” Marcus nods grimly. “Yes.” Adrian turns to security. “Seal all exits. Facial sweep every floor. No one leaves until I say so.” Orders explode outward. Fast. Urgent. But I barely hear them. Because one thought keeps repeating. She wore my name. Not stole. Wore. Used it lik

Before Memory

Alessa --- The room goes silent. Not the tense silence we’ve been living inside all day. Something deeper. More dangerous. Because fear can be managed. Threats can be answered. But this—this is uncertainty tied to the past. I stare at the photo on my phone. Me. Laughing. Relaxed. Unaware. Standing beside the woman from the lobby. From the café. From today. And I know with complete certainty—I don’t remember taking it. My fingers go numb. “That’s fake,” Marcus Dela Torre says immediately. He steps closer. “Could be composite. Manipulated source image.” But his tone lacks conviction. Because even before he says it—I know what Adrian knows. The body language is real. My posture. The angle of my shoulders. The way I lean unconsciously when I’m comfortable. The smile. It isn’t staged. It’s lived. Across from me, Adrian Reyes is completely still. Too still. “Adrian.” He doesn’t answer. I lift my eyes to him. “You know something.” A beat. Then—“Yes.” The word slices clea

Erased Ties

Alessa --- The voice doesn’t fade. It grows louder. Not in sound— in certainty. Come on, Ali. Hurry up. Childlike. Playful. Impatient in the affectionate way only someone close can be. I grip the edge of the conference table. Hard. The room blurs for half a second, then steadies. “Alessa.” Adrian Reyes reaches for me instinctively. I step back before he can touch me. Not because I don’t want him to. Because I need to know if what I’m feeling is memory—or influence. The hesitation lands in his eyes. Sharp. Brief. Then gone. Marcus Dela Torre looks between us once, then focuses. “Sit down.” “I’m fine.” “You’re pale.” “I said I’m fine.” My voice comes out tighter than intended. Marcus doesn’t argue. He just slides a chair closer. Preparedness instead of pressure. I hate how grateful I am for it. I sit. Adrian remains standing. Watching me like movement itself is a threat. I look at Marcus. “Say it again.” He glances at the screen. “Elena Valez.” “No. Before that.

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